


Das Tier in Mir

by take_a_bow06



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, M/M, Protective!Daryl, Rick is a Vet, Slow Burn, Werewolves, and has a farm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-15
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-02-21 06:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2458271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/take_a_bow06/pseuds/take_a_bow06
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick is a common veterinarian in the ordinary little town of Blackwood. He was used to seeing injured animals on the pavement on his way home, but one night after work, what he finds wounded at a side of the road isn't exactly an animal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Soaked

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! first time posting something in this fandom so hope you like it! Special thanks to the amazing [Sam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nupoxsi/) for being my beta, love you, gurl! <3

 

When Rick last checked the watch on his wrist before starting the engine of his truck and driving through the wooded road back home, it had been 10:18 PM. A call from the veterinary clinic urgently reporting that a dog had been attacked by a snake had made Rick head out of his home in the middle of a rainy autumn night and go right into town. Being a veterinarian in a town like Blackwood could be a blessing at times and in others a complete curse.

The sound of the rain crashing against the asphalt road along with the roar of his old Chevy’s engine and the little wipers on the glass was all that could be heard in the dead of the night. He looked into the rearview mirror and the only thing visible in the darkness were several silhouettes of skeletal trees left behind, cruelly beaten by the autumn, erect up the night sky. His gaze soon returned to the wet road stretched before him, lighted only by the dim light provided by the headlights of his truck. On each side of the road, more trees.

Sighing deeply, and in an attempt to keep his mind busy during the rest of the trip back home, Rick turned the radio on and left it at a random station, not caring much what song was playing in that moment. Soon the 1969 hit " _Bad Moon Rising_ " by Creedence Clearwater Revival filled the cab of his truck and in no time his fingers started drumming to the beat of the song distractedly, feeling his shoulders relax against his leather seat.

As John Fogerty sang _"Don’t go around tonight…it's bound to take your life"_ his eyes noticed something moving on the left side of the road. To be precise, it was a man, a naked man, walking at a slow but determined pace at the corner of the highway, and thanks to the yellow lights that his truck’s lights offered, Rick was able to notice how the man was limping due to a prominent wound in his right thigh. Rick could also see a couple of tattoos covering the skin of the stranger’s back; his hair was long enough to touch his shoulders, and it was as dark as the night itself.

Without being aware of it, Rick was following the man with his truck, debating in his mind whether he should help him or not. Common sense was screaming at him to continue driving without looking back when all of the sudden his truck stopped on the side of the road next to the guy. Helping a naked and wounded man in that torrential rain in the middle of the night wasn’t something anyone would do, but Rick didn’t have enough options available in that moment.

Deep down, he knew it was the right thing to _do_.

When he focused again on the man at a side of the pavement, Rick noticed that the man had stopped walking, choosing to stay simply still in the middle of the rain in a position that Rick could describe almost as "defensive;" with his back muscles and shoulders tense. Firm, ready, _waiting_.

Taking a deep breath, Rick opened slightly the driver’s door enough to support his left foot on the wet pavement. He held the door open as he rose from his seat, feeling soon as the cold wind hit his face and the rain began to soak his hair and jacket. The words were out of his mouth before he could process them in his mind:

"Can I help you?"


	2. Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, yeah, new chapter! yay! \o/ thanks to everyone for the comments! c,: <3 Special thanks to [Sam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nupoxsi/) who kicked my ass until i finally finished this chapter and helped me A LOT with this, you're an amazing Beta, love you so much, dear!<33

When he came down the stairs with his first aid kit in one hand and holding an unopened box of surgical gloves in the other, Rick found the man, whose name was still an enigma to him, just how he’d left him; sitting in one of the chairs at kitchen table, wrapped in a blue blanket that the veterinarian had handed him as soon as they’d arrived at Rick’s home.

The moment the man had agreed getting in his truck, Rick's first instinct had been to drive back to town and leave him in the hospital; they would certainly take care of him there and Rick could go home with a clean conscience; his job would be done. But at the bottom of heart, the vet knew driving the wounded man to the hospital wouldn’t be the best option.

Rick _could_ help this man by himself and he _would_.

After putting the kit and the light box of gloves on the surface of the table, Rick trailed back into the living room and took one of the lamps that were off on one of the boards, once he’d gotten back into the kitchen, he took the lamp shade off and threw it over the table, and placed the lamp on one of the empty chairs for better illumination. Right now he needed to get a clear glimpse at the wound, and bright light was necessary. In spite of the heavy rain, blood, has stained the man's thigh alarmingly, and new drops of an intense scarlet red welled to the surface of the skin, mixing with the raindrops that were still on his skin.

Curiosity dashed over him, but Rick knew he couldn’t ask him what happened, at least not yet.

Walking towards the sink, Rick opened the kitchen faucet and let the water flow through his hands, washing carefully between each finger before putting on the blue surgical gloves. His fingers felt strangely comfortable as he stretched the gloves and arranged them until they were okay. Outside the rain had stopped. When Rick turned around, he saw how the stranger was looking at his injured leg, frowning while biting his lower lip, an odd habit that something that Rick had noticed while driving back home, but what had really gotten the attention of the veterinarian was the fixed expression on his face, the way his eyes hadn’t deflected from his injured leg for a second, as if he was struggling to grasp the meaning of something that was far beyond his understanding, as well as Rick’s.

"Better to check that wound," Rick said in an attempt to break the cold silence between them.

But the silence was still heavy between them.

Ducking beside the injured man's leg, Rick began to clean around the wound carefully, removing the blood from the skin with a white towel that quickly turned light pink, and soon the wound was totally exposed to the light coming from the lamp and Rick quickly knew he wasn’t dealing with just a simple cut. He‘d taken care of multiple type of injuries over his entire career but he’d never seen anything like it before; the wound had clearly been done by a gunshot but the skin around the wound wasn’t as shattered as it should be instead, the skin was contracted inward, as if it had begun to heal itself somehow just after the shoot.

"I’ll need to anesthetize the leg to remove the bullet."

"Don’t need it." That was the first time Rick heard the man's voice and for a second he thought that maybe his mind was just playing tricks on him. "Jus' take it out."

He could see the man's eyes clearly under the light of the kitchen; his gaze was intense, just like the ocean before the storm, and Rick tried to find any trace of doubt, any trace of pain, but he found nothing, only that penetrating gaze that stared back expectantly. Rick simply nodded and proceed to sterilize his surgical tweezers and get to work, going back to his crouched position next to the man’s wounded leg, shifting a little so he was resting one knee firmly on the floor for major stability.

"Tell me to stop if you feel pain," Rick said, and after speaking up he kept on doing what he had to, bringing the tweezers close to the injured thigh, slowly inserting it into the wound made by the bullet that had left quite a grotesque, deep hole in the skin.

But the man didn’t even flinch at the contact.

The blood soon stained the white tiles of the kitchen floor, red drops falling down like rain, but fortunately for the two of them, the bullet wasn’t so deep within the muscle as Rick had first guessed. When the tip of the tweezers hit the metal of the bullet, the vet began to pull it out slowly to not cause further damage to the muscle, and he breathed out a relieved sigh once the small metal bullet shone beneath the light of the lamp.

"We're almost done, just need to disinfect the wound," Rick informed him, and the man simply nodded once. His eyes were now focused on the bullet resting on surgical steel tray on the floor full of used cotton balls stained with blood.

"I’ve never seen you in the town before," The vet found himself commenting suddenly, keeping his eyes fixed on the wound he was disinfecting.

"'m not exactly from 'round ‘ere." His voice was hoarse and deep, almost as intense as his gaze.

“You didn’t have a warm welcome, then." Rick dared to give him a short smile as he stood, the man just shrugged.

Rick took the surgical gloves off and checked the first aid kit looking for some bandages but, unfortunately, found none. _Fuck_ , he cursed internally. Had he known there weren’t any bandages left; Rick would’ve brought them downstairs before he helped the stranger with his wound. That meant he had to go upstairs and leave the man alone for a quick moment before he could finish his job. Disposed to do so, Rick turned back towards him and exhaled loudly.

“I’ll be right back, don’t move,” he said, staring down at the man with concerned eyes.“It’ll be less than minute.”

After giving him a small excuse, Rick hurried with long steps towards the stair. He climbed two steps at a time, and reached the bathroom of his bedroom in no time. Rick turned the lights on, and opening the medicine cabinet he kept in the bathroom, his hands rummaging in search for a new package of bandages.

 

It wasn’t long until he found two unopened packages with a green logo that he knew so well. He grabbed them and exited the room. There was something about helping the man that Rick didn’t quite understand. The realization of how weird the situation really was hit him as he was going back downstairs. He had a naked man in his kitchen, wrapped up in a blanket in the middle of the night. _How should he proceed now? What should he say?_

Rick froze on his tracks when he finally reached the kitchen.

The blue blanket was thrown over the chair; the back door was open and the man, _gone_.

 

*******

 

The dawn had already broken across the horizon and Daryl had lost count of how long he’d been running without stop. He guessed it could probably be a couple of hours that had passed by ever since he’d left the little town behind.

With his paws burying firmly in the wet ground, his ears flown back by the breeze and his tongue hanging out of his mouth, he ran almost euphoric through the woods, dodging every tree in his way.

In the distance, Daryl could sense a small creek, the sound of water flowing and the smell of wet dawn were strong as he ran in its direction. It didn’t take much longer until the creek was soaking part of his dense fur and paws whilst he crossed it, loud splashed on the water, hard rocks under his paws. Daryl kept running, and he’d never felt more free. He ran until there was no path left to follow, until there was nowhere else he could kept running towards to. When he reached the end of the forest he stopped completely, taking a few breaths before starting the transformation.

The ebony fur that covered his all of his body bristled, and his bones shook, announcing the imminent change and almost immediately, he heard a clicking sound coming from his front paws, adopting a new elongated shape. His claws curled, forming fingers with short nails. Daryl could feel his spine and ribs cracking and moving slowly underneath his skin and he couldn’t suppress a loud hiss as his muscles contracted. It was always painful, but it was also something that he was already used to by now. Then his legs adapted his normal human shape, his thighs relaxed and his back straightened, leaving him on a kneeling position on the frosty grass of the forest, as the comfortable fur began to disappear, exposing his bare skin to the cold breeze. He gasped one last time as the features of his face began to change; his jaw contracted, forming a strong chin, small nose and thin lips.

Daryl stood up from the ground, feeling the last spasms of the transformation running down his spine and the cold wind caressing his naked skin once more. A few yards away he could see the old cabin where they were staying those days.

“Where the fuck have ya been, huh?” his brother barked annoyed as soon as he crossed the front door.

“Shut up, Merle.”

He walked to the old and worn couch, grabbing his underwear and pants as began to dress himself, noticing how the wound in his leg had disappeared almost completely, leaving just a small and puckered mark on his skin.

“I chased that sonofabitch all by m’self last night while ya were…” Merle sniffed the air, snorting as he shook his head. “Well, having fun, apparently.”

“I got shot by a damn hunter, t’was what happened.”

His brother snorted again, walking to the small and improvised kitchen they’d arranged for themselves some days earlier, taking a beer from the counter and opening the bottle using only his thumb and index finger. “So what? Can’t deal with a simple bullet?”

“It had silver in it.” Merle stop on his tracks, turning back to face Daryl again, trying to process his words carefully.

“How?” The beer was now forgotten in his right hand.

“It happened too fast… was running just behind ya when I heard the shot,” Daryl explained as he began to button up his old flannel.

“And how the hell did ya take it out?” his brother asked, walking back to the old recliner near one of the windows.

Daryl suddenly remembered the bearded man who had found him last night on the side of the road when he was walking back to where he’d seen Merle for the last time before he got shot. Without _him_ , Daryl probably would still have the damn bullet buried in his leg and hurting like a bitch.

“Don’t matter,” he just mumbled dismissively, sitting on the couch and trying to sweep away the image and essence of that man from his mind.“What happened to Joe?”

Merle scratched his chin thoughtfully after he took a sip of his beer. Apparently for his brother it was never too early for a beer..

“Lost him when I reached the mountains, near that little town…” the older brother waved his free hand in the air as he tried to remember the name.

“Blackwood,” Daryl said almost immediately. “Ya think he’s hiding there?

“Probably” Merle replied, taking another sip from his beer. “We need to hunt his sorry ass ‘fore next full moon”

“So what’s the plan?”

“We’ll pay him a lil’ visit in Blackwood, baby brother.”


	3. Found

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, this fic is alive and kickin', again! and I'll try to update this story regularly. special thnks to the awesome [Sam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nupoxsi/pseuds/nupoxsi) for the help!<3

The white ceiling above him was the first thing he saw that morning, and Rick had to rub both hands over his face in an attempt to clear his blurred vision due to all the hours he’d been sleeping. The morning light creeping through the curtains reminded him that he’d to get up soon, and even though it was Saturday, his work never ended.

When he finally managed to sit up on the bed, Rick stretched both arms, regretting it immediately when his still stiff back protested at the sudden movement. The soft carpet beneath his feet faded into the cold and blue tiles as soon as he crossed the bathroom door, proceeding to start his morning routine as if he were on autopilot, and when he finished washing his face, Rick could see the tiredness on his face reflected on the mirror, painting his skin like ink and he felt like he’d age five years in just ten months. Sighing, Rick walked out of the bathroom and to his closet, pulling out a pair of worn out but fresh and clean jeans and a simple button-down brown shirt.

Combing his curls with one of his hands as he finally left the bedroom and started to pace down the stairs, Rick saw the morning sunlight coming through the window and illuminating warmly every corner of the living room, a reminder of how quiet and peaceful his days had turned into, but Rick still remember how his life used to be just ten months ago, when Lori was still living there and his mornings were anything but peaceful.

But after almost ten months since his divorce, he still couldn't get used to the idea of being single and living alone again. There were moments when Rick thought that he was happy with the life he’d had before, and deep down, he was. Waking up every Sunday and eat those terrible pancakes that Lori used to make for them, then in the afternoon when they’d go to watch a movie. There was a time that they used to be a family.

Rick never noticed when Lori had stop loving him, _or if she really did at all._

With the pass of the years, the occasional fights and the silly arguments turned into something constant. But at the end he always tried to make it right for her the best he could and with everything he had, yet it wasn't enough for her, it never was.

The lack of sex was the first sign before the rest fell like a row of dominoes on a table and soon they found themselves living under the same roof but barely speaking. The years flew by and every day the place he once used to call home started to feel more like just a place he slept in at night after work. Rick still remember the first time he came back to the house and took his pillow and placed it on the couch, and if he closed his eyes just now he could still see Lori’s angry face and clenched jaw, accusingly pointing her long and slender finger at him, almost shouting and arguing that _‘she wasn’t a monster’_ and _‘why was he doing this to them?’_ and in her eyes, it was always Rick’s fault.

Three days later after that night, Rick arrived home to find a yellow folder filled with the documents of the divorce on top of the kitchen table. It didn’t really take him by surprise; it had always been just a matter of time. But the divorce wasn’t the hard part. The worst out of the situation was telling Carl. Rick could still picture his son’s bright blue eyes filled with confusion and questions he couldn’t answered in that moment, and maybe not even now.

As soon as he reached the kitchen, Rick’s first instinct was to make some coffee before starting the day. He put the filter into the brewing basket and filled it with pre-ground coffee directly out of the package. His eye was trained to pour just the right amount of pre-ground coffee directly from the package without the need of any kind of measurement, doing the same almost every day paid off in the best of ways. He assured the basket back into the coffee machine before grabbing the glass coffee pot and slowly paced towards the sink, filling it with water. Making coffee was probably the best part of his morning routine, so Rick allowed himself to relax as he filled the reservoir with the water and placed the carafe back before switching the button on.

It didn’t take too long for the machine to start making noises and the coffee to start brewing. The smell of coffee lingered in the kitchen as the last drops of the hot beverage fell into the carafe, and Rick instantly reached for a mug on one of the counters, the one Carl had given to him on his last birthday. It was white and had printed the paw of a small dog on the front, and a smile broke on Rick’s face as he filled it with the fresh coffee, feeling the ceramic heating up while he poured the drink. He leaned his back against the kitchen counter, eyeing the pleasant smoke coming out of the warm mug he was holding, taking the first sip and enjoying every second of it. Moments like these were rare ten months ago, but now, and for the first time in a while, Rick was finally enjoying his loneliness.

When he was about to turn around and leave the now empty mug on the sink, something caught his attention immediately. Tree drops of dried blood were decorating in an almost morbidly way the white tiles of his kitchen floor and all the flashbacks of what had happen last night hit him violently. The man he helped last night had disappeared without even leaving a trace, just like a ghost.

_Who was that man?_

Two knocks on his door were enough to pull him out of his thoughts and he finished placing the mug on the sink before heading to the front door.

“Morning” Glenn greeted him with a warm smile, shoving both hands into the front pockets of his jeans.

“Reporting to work on time today, I see,” Rick said, supporting his right shoulder on the doorframe.

“Well, there’s something I need to talk to you about, so.” The young man scratched the back of his neck, his smile fading a little.

“Let’s talk while we get startin’.” Glenn nodded and Rick proceeded to close the door behind him.

Both men crossed the front porch, feeling the warm sun slightly heating the cold morning wind that still hung in the air when they headed straight to the closed barn located not far from the house.

“What is it, then?” Rick asked, the wooden heavy doors of the barn creaking as he pulled them open.

“My grandma is sick,” Glenn began; and he could no longer hide the concern on his face.

Rick lift a bale of hay, feeling his back protesting almost immediately. “Sorry to hear that”

“Yeah.” Glenn nodded once, furrowing his brow slightly while he lifted a hay bale as well.

“Got a call from my old sister last night, said they need my help.”

Fortunately, the barn was not so far away from the stable where the horses were held, and Rick could saw them poking their heads out of their stalls whilst Glenn pushed the door open using his back, both men breathed relieved when they left the heavy bales of hay on the floor.

“And I need to be there in a couple of days,” Glenn concluded with sorry eyes.

Rick stretched both arms, feeling his back already sore. “Glenn, you don’t need my permission, if that’s what you’re sayin’.”

“Yeah, but I know all the work you have here with the farm and the animals at the clinic.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it.” Rick smiled sympathetically; the last thing he wanted was to add more concern to Glenn’s list. “If there’s something I can help you with, just let me know.”

“Thanks, Rick,” Glenn said, smiling again, the concern on his face had now faded into a clear expression of relief.

Rick nodded and smiled shortly, placing both hands on his hips and observing the stable around him, _how the hell he was going to deal with the farm all by himself now?_

“And what would you do now?” Glenn asked after a few seconds, rubbing the head of one of the three horses in the place. The animal made a happy noise as Glenn’s palm caressed the furry head, and soon the other two horses were protesting for him to touch them too. Rick saw how Glenn quickly noticed the other horses asked for attention, so he petted both of them as he kept his eyes on Rick.

“I’ll think of something,” Rick assured him, sighing loudly this time “Now help me with this thing.”

 

 

***

 

“And what tha hell are we gon’ do now?”

Merle stopped on his tracks and looked up from his plate straight to glare at his brother sitting across him, the knife on his right hand and the fork on his left with a piece of steak pinned on it.

“Ya said that Joe would be ‘ere but he ain’t, so now what?” Daryl leaned his back against the chair’s back, crossing both arms over his chest.

Merle kept eating in silence, maybe processing his answer or just ignoring him and not giving two shits about what he just said. Sighing, Daryl looked around the place, feeling the overheated atmosphere of the restaurant, a kid crying as his mother was reading the menu on the table near the door, an elderly couple eating and talking –complaining, more like it- about the food, and a young waitress cleaning the empty tables.

“I said that prob’ly,” Merle finally spoke, chewing another piece of meat. “We gon’ stick to the plan”

The waitress passed right next to them to clean the empty, and Merle tilted his head to one side to check out her ass.

“Ya keep sayin’ the same shit since we left tha cabin,” Daryl said, leaning forward, holding onto the edge of the table. “But I still don’t know nothing ‘bout that plan of yours”

Merle shoved the rest of the steak into his mouth, eagerly chewing the meat.

“This place is near tha mountains,” Merle explained, taking the bottle of beer placed next to his now empty plate. “And I’m damn sure tha son’bitch is gon’ be ‘round ‘ere for a while, huntin’.”

“So, the plan…”

“We need ta stick ‘round ‘til next full moon, maybe try and hunt him ‘fore,” said the older brother, drinking the rest of the beer in a large sip and putting back the empty bottle on the table. “And if we gon’ be ‘ere for a while, we need ta find us jobs, we’re running low of money.”

Daryl couldn’t help but chuckle at his brother’s words. “Ya say it like it was that easy.”

“Stop complainin’, ye start soundin’ like a bitch.” Daryl raised an eyebrow. “Then what ya suggest, huh?”

Daryl took a look around the place once more, staring over at the same elderly couple as before, the two of them now keeping a vivid conversation with the waitress that cleaned the tables next to them a couple of minutes ago. Just as he kept eyeing the people talking to each other, the bell placed above door of the restaurant rang and a man in a cop uniform walked into the place, quickly sitting in one of the stools at the counter. Just the simple thought of spending a whole month in this town was bothering him deeply, it was against his nature, and Daryl could almost hear it _growl_ deep inside his chest.

His eyes shifted back at his brother, regretting the words even before they left his lips “Fine, let’s go find a damn job,” he said, putting both hands firmly on the table and rising from his seat.

Merle snorted and rose from his seat as well, pulling out his wallet and leaving the cash on the table.

 

 

***

 

Rick parked his truck in front of the bar. The sign made of neon lights indicated that the place was open was reflected in the windshield. After adjusting his jacket, Rick stepped out of the truck and closed the door, walking to the main entrance of the bar. The warm place greeted him as soon as he crossed the door, and Rick found it rarely empty to be a Saturday night, with just a few tables occupied and the bar almost empty with just two men sitting on the stools with their heads down.

“T-dog,” Rick greeted the bartender when he sat on one of the empty stools.

“It’s been a while since the last time I saw you,” T-dog said with a big smile while cleaning a huge pint of beer.

Rick nodded to confirm the bartender’s words. The last time he had been there was the day he signed the divorce papers. “Been working ‘lot,” he replied with a tired yet satisfied smile. “But I’m fine.”

“Good to hear that, then.” T-dog placed the glass on the bar.“What can I give you?”

“Just a beer,” he said, pulling his phone out of the right pocket of his jacket, quickly remembering he was meaning to text Maggie ever since he started driving towards the bar. His fingers worked fast on the buttons as he wrote a text message informing he’d visit her tomorrow at her father’s farm.

After disappearing for a brief moment, T-dog was back within two minutes, placing an icy bottle of beer in front of him “Here you go.” With that, the bartender walked to the other end of the large counter to serve another customer.

Soon a bottle turned into two, and when Rick put the second empty bottle of beer next to the first one, he realized how tired he was, how heavy his eyelids had become. Checking his watch, he found out it was nearly 11:25, which meant it was time to go. Rick lifted his right hand to call T-dog’s attention and pulled out his wallet with the other.

“You look tired, my friend,” T-dog pointed out, taking the now empty bottles from the surface of the counter.

“And I am,” Rick assured him. “The farm and the work at the clinic are practically bleeding me dry.”

“Glenn is not working with you at the farm?” T-dog slightly frowned.

“Yeah, but he’s going to Michigan for a couple of months, his family needs him there,” Rick explained with a heavy sigh. “If I can’t find anyone else I will have to deal with everything all by myself.”

“You know, now that you said that,” T-dog began, leaning on the wooden bar, lowering his voice as if he was about to tell Rick a secret. “That one over there came here early asking for a job.” T-dog pointed to the left end of the bar with his chin, at the very last stool.

Rick turned his face on its direction and he was surprised when his eyes noticed the familiar man, the same naked man he'd helped last night, sitting with both elbows plastered on the bar, keeping his head down.

 

This town was just too damn small.


	4. Unexpected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaand another chapter is here! thanks for the amazing comments and the kudos, you guys are awesome! :,3 <3 and especial thanks to my dear Sam for the help! <3

It was his fifth and perhaps last beer of the night, Daryl was pretty sure he couldn’t afford more than that. After spending the whole afternoon looking for a job in that town, they had decided to give up and try again the next day in the morning, but Daryl refused to go back to that shithole motel they were staying early, and after a _“just go for a walk”_ he closed the door of the cheap room they shared, lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag of it as he walked through the small streets of Blackwood, enjoying the cold breeze of early autumn on his skin and the smell of nicotine.

Sometimes maybe he just missed to be alone.

It was almost nine o’clock when he spotted the neon sign of a bar across the street near downtown.

The soft guitar chords coming from an unknown song playing on the jukebox of the old bar filled the air as Daryl lifted his bottle to take a long sip of what would be his last beer, feeling the cold and bitter liquid running down his throat.

Yeah, he definitely missed being alone and enjoy moments like those all by himself.

“Shouldn’t be drinkin’ with that wound on your leg, y’know.”

Daryl froze on his tracks, holding the bottle tightly in hand, he didn’t turn to see face the person standing beside him, and he just opted to look at the beer in his hand…but he already knew who _he_ was, that essence was registered deep in his brain, that voice was stuck into his ears just like tiny needles and the face of the bearded man who pulled that damn bullet out of his leg appeared in his mind.

Wiping any trace of beer from his lips with the back of his right hand, Daryl turned his gaze to finally see the man standing next to him, with his left hand shoved into the front pocket of his jeans and the other supported on the wooden bar, looking at Daryl with an almost visible friendly smile tugging at his lips.

“Ain’t that bad,” were the only words Daryl managed to speak, taking the last sip of his beer and placing the empty bottle back on the surface of the bar.

“It looked pretty bad last night,” the man insisted but his voice was still calm, friendly but curious.

“Said it’s fine,” Daryl said firmly, turning his eyes back at the man. Deep down, he didn’t want to be rude with this man; after all, he’d helped him.

The man stared at him for a few seconds, nodding just once and looking around the bar for a moment. It was time to leave and Daryl followed his instincts and proceeded to pull out his wallet from the back pocket of his pants, feeling embarrassed when he realized he didn’t have enough money.

“I’ll pay those and invite you another one if you hear what I got to say,” said the man this time, determined, furrowing his brow to emphasize the seriousness of his words.

Daryl stared at him for a moment, narrowing his eyes as if he was trying to read that man’s thoughts.

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.” And with that he raised his right hand to the bartender to order two more beers. “Heard that you’re looking for a job, uh...” he made a gesture with his hand.

“Daryl.” And he regretted speaking up as soon as the words left his lips, he shouldn’t give his name that easily. “Yeah, so?”

The bartender arrived to the spot in the bar they were sat at with the two beers in hand, looking at Daryl with eyes full of curiosity, then to the man standing next to him as he walked away to clean the other end of the counter.

“The guy helping me out with the farm can’t do it anymore,” explained the man, taking the cold bottle from the bar but with any intentions of drinking it. “Blackwood is very complicated when it comes to hiring people, especially when most people here have their own land to attend.”

Daryl tried not to look interested as he took a sip of the cold beer the bartender had placed in front of him, looking back at the man and noticing the fatigue clearly visible in his eyes and the small wrinkles at the corner of them, narrowing his eyes again in an attempt to decipher this man.

_Who was that man?_

First he’d help him when he was limping and wounded at the side of the road in the middle of the night and with a silver bullet buried in his thigh, and then he offered him a job? And yet, there he was, acting just like an ungrateful son of a bitch.

Daryl nodded, drumming his finger on the bar and then looking up at the man. “I’ll think ‘bout it.”

“You don’t have to say anything right now, but if you’re interested,” he said, leaving his untouched beer on the bar to pulled out his wallet from his jacket, taking out a rectangular card and placing it on the wooden counter next to Daryl’s hand. “You know where I live,” he finished, this time placing the cash on the bar, looking at Daryl one last time before saying goodbye to the bartender with a friendly and warm smile, shoving both hands into his jacket as he left the now deserted bar behind.

Another song was playing on the jukebox placed at the corner of the bar and Daryl couldn’t recognize the band, from the corner of his eye he could see the bartender placing a bottle of whiskey back into the shelf and the white card placed harmlessly on the bar.

Daryl let out a sigh before finishing the rest of his beer, firmly putting the empty bottle on the bar, feeling how the butt of the bottle cracked a little, and then took the small card quickly as if it burns his fingers just like it was made of pure silver, and as the unknown voice coming from the jukebox sang _“Fate up against your will,”_ Daryl read the card resting on his palm, a phone number and a name written in black.

 

Rick Grimes, Veterinarian.

 

 

*******

 

“So, what do you think?”

Rick frowned, looking closely to the dog’s ear, pulling slightly with his gloved fingers to each sides of the ear to expose it better to the bright, white light of the lamp. The skin around the ear was red and swollen.

“See this right here?” Rick pointed with his right pinky finger into the dog’s ear.

Tara leaned in, her face turning into an unpleasant grimace while wrinkling her nose at the bad odor coming from the dog’s evidently infected ear, then nodding quickly at Rick’s words.

“He has the external canal swollen,” the veterinarian proceeded to explain, “this kind of otitis can be caused by different things, parasites, moisture, allergies.”

Tara looked at her german shepherd that was lying on the cold surface of the metallic table. “We swim in the lake quite often, so,” she said, biting her lower lip and frowning her brow in a guilty expression mixed with concern.

“Maybe you don’t dry his ears like you should.” Rick let go of the dog’s ear, which immediately raised his head and shook it eagerly, causing the ID tag of his collar to crash against the metallic buckle a couple of times.

Tara sighed, stroking her dog’s head slowly and almost pouting. “Sorry, buddy.”

Rick chuckled lightheartedly. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he added, taking off his used surgical gloves and throwing them into the bin next to the table. “I’ll write you down the treatment and I’ll see you in ten days.”

It had been a quiet morning, perhaps too quiet for a Monday, days in which the usual morning-rush made Rick’s day start a little bit too hurriedly, and he couldn’t be more grateful about it. It was nearly 1:03 PM when Rick stepped out of his office and looked up at the watch in the waiting room, his shift was finally over.

“Michonne called,” Carol, the receptionist, announced without tearing her eyes off the monitor in front of her as she keep typing.“Said she’s on her way here”

“Thanks, Carol.”

“Are you leaving now?” Asked Carol, this time looking at Rick while taking off her glasses.

“Yeah, Glenn is waiting for me back at the farm,” he explained.

Carol smiled sympathetically and nodded. “Must be hard, your shift here is over and yet you still have work to do.”

“I’m exhausted, don’t know how I've managed with all of this so far,” Rick said with a tired smile, rubbing the back of his neck.

The front door was open, sunlight creeping into the place through the crystal glass, and his colleague stepped in, pushing the door with her left shoulder while carrying a cup holder of cardboard with three medium coffees on it.

“I know I’m late, but at least I brought some coffee,” Michonne said, smiling brightly as she walked toward them, placing the cup holder on Carol’s desk.

Rick chuckled. “That’s nice of you.”

“Oh shut up, I’m always nice,” Michonne replied with a playful tone, taking one of the coffees out of the holder and handing it to Carol, who kindly thanked her with a grateful smile.

Rick smiled and nodded, taking his coffee in hand. “Gotta go now, thanks for this,” he said, lifting the still steamy paper cup in his left hand.

“Anytime, pretty boy.”

After saying goodbye to Carol and Michonne, Rick stepped out to the clinic’s parking lot, sipping his coffee on his way to the truck, enjoying the afternoon sun mixed with the slightly cold breeze of September. Starting the engine, he drove out of the veterinarian clinic and into the town; soon the streets vanished into trees, a complete different sight from the dull, opaque colors from the streets turning into different shades of orange and browns that quite gave meaning to the word autumn. Rick allowed himself to take glimpses of the beautiful nature as he drove through the narrow and wooded road back home.

Ten minutes later, Rick was already parking his truck in the land outside his house. He ran his fingertips over the steering wheel for a brief moment, and when he glanced through the window, he noticed how Glenn was walking towards him with hasty steps, leaving the barn at his back. Rick immediately understood something was going on, and he fixed the retrieve mirror before stepping out of the truck.

“T-there’s uhm…” Glenn stammered. “There’s someone waiting for you,” the young man informed him as Rick closed the driver’s door behind his back.

“And who is it?” Rick frowned, turning his head to look at his house, trying to distinguish the person standing at his porch but it was impossible with the afternoon sun shining above them.

“Don’t know, man, didn’t ask,” Glenn confessed, scratching the top of his head. “The guy seems pretty intimidating.”

“‘Kay.” Rick nodded, patting Glenn’s shoulders as he passed beside him.

Shielding his eyes from the sunlight glow with his right hand and still holding the keys of his truck with the other, Rick walked with long strides towards the house, and he almost stopped on his tracks when was able to see who _the mysterious man_ was. _He_ was there, standing at his porch, leaning his back against the railing of the stairs.

“Hey,” Rick greeted him, standing at the end of the wooden stairs of his porch. “Can I help you with somethin’?”

Daryl stared at him, biting his lower lip before nodding once.

“Is tha job still available?” he asked, almost dragging the words with a husky voice.

_What?_

Rick glared at him without blinking; opening his mouth to then close it again, just like a fish out of water. He didn’t know what to say because he simply didn’t think that would happen. Rick didn’t know what the hell he was thinking when he asked that strange man to work for him, and he couldn’t even blame it on the alcohol, not when he was more than lucid when the words had left his mouth back at the bar, and certainly not now when he stood close to him.

“It’s yours if you want it,”

“’Course,” was the carefree reply, this time Daryl looked at him right in the eye, and Rick remembered that night when he had helped him, the very same night when Daryl had looked at him in the same way. What was it in his eyes that he was unable to read? “Ya’ve got a schedule or somethin’?”

“Mondays to Saturdays, Sundays are free,” Rick explained, staring at Daryl for a moment before looking around, noting Glenn walking out of the barn and closing the heavy doors. “The pay day are on Saturdays and-”

“And when d’ya need me ta start?” He interrupted, biting his lower lip again, and Rick couldn’t tell if it was nervousness, anxiety or just an old habit he had.

“Tomorrow sounds good to you?”

“Yeah.”

“Tomorrow, then” Rick said, nodding once.

Daryl nodded, looking around the land, and for a second Rick thought that maybe he was processing the fact that he’ll be working for him.

“ ‘kay,” Daryl said, clearing his throat and walking down the last two steps left of the porch stairs. “See ya then,” he added as he walked past Rick.

The veterinarian nodded to himself, seeing the worn out angel wings displayed on Daryl’s back almost proudly as he walked away, shoving both hands into his front pockets of his jeans and with his head down and without looking back not even once.

 

Well, that was easier than he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also here’s the soundtrack for this fic, hope you like it! <3
> 
> http://8tracks.com/take_a_bow06/das-tier-in-mir-soundtrack


	5. Hidden

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there! Sooo it took a while to finish this ch. but here we go! Thanks to the lovely [Sam](http://archiveofourown.org/users/nupoxsi/pseuds/nupoxsi) and this time, special thanks to the awesome [Hustler](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hustler/pseuds/Hustler) for the help! <33

 

It was nearly 8 AM and he could feel the cold morning breeze on his face as he stood on the porch, checking the watch on his wrist for a second time since he came out of the house. Rick should have been on his way to town, but he was still on his porch waiting for Glenn. There was no trace of Daryl yet.

Five minutes passed by, and Rick spotted Glenn walking on the small path that lead to the house, waving his right hand before shoving it into the front pockets of his worn out jeans.

“Hey, Rick,” Glenn greeted him as he stepped onto the porch.

“Mornin’,” Rick replied with a simple nod and a smile.

Glenn looked around the porch like he was expecting to see someone else there. He looked over his right shoulder and then back at Rick. “He isn’t here yet?”

Rick shook his head and looked back in the same direction Glenn had come from. “Guess it’s still early.”

Glenn sighed. “You think hiring that guy is a good idea?”

Rick couldn’t help but notice the way Glenn hesitated before asking that. The vet stared back at Glenn and then sighed, dragging his gaze back at the narrow, dusty road. “He needed the job and I need the help,” he simply explained, placing both hands on the railing of the porch. “But still, we’ll put him on trial during the rest of the week; see if he can handle it.”

“Okay,” Glenn replied, nodding once.

It was nearly 8:15 when Daryl stepped onto Rick’s land, walking towards them with a cigarette on his lips. His eyes were narrowed because of the bright morning light shining above him. He was still wearing the same clothes as the day before, and looked like he had spent the night sleeping in the woods.

“Good morning,” Rick greeted Daryl when he was finally standing in front of the porch steps.

He greeted Rick back with a nod, but avoided eye contact, throwing the rest of the cigarette on the ground.

“He’s Glenn. He’s gonna teach you a couple of things during this week,” the vet explained, as he shoved both hands into his jacket. Glenn smiled shortly, looking over at Daryl curiously.

“‘kay,” Daryl replied, long locks almost covering his eyes as he nodded and stared between Glenn and Rick briefly, biting his lower lip.

“So, ready for some fun?” Glenn said with an awkward smile in an attempt to break the ice.

Daryl’s response to his friend’s words was an arched eyebrow. His body language didn’t leave room for misinterpretation. It was more than clear that Glenn’s input was noise to his ears. Still, Rick chuckled awkwardly and hoped he could ease things up between them.

“I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” Rick said. “We can talk ‘bout the pay then”

“A’right” Daryl replied shortly, nodding once and looking Rick briefly in the eyes.

“Well, let’s get starting,” Glenn said, as he walked down porch steps.

With that, both men walked to the barn, Glenn leading Daryl, and Rick couldn’t help but feel proud of the young man. He was going to miss his friend terribly.

Rick took his keys out of his jacket pocket as he walked to his parked truck. Once inside his truck, Rick pulled out his phone from the right front pocket of his jeans, texting Carol that he was on his way to the clinic and then Carl, wishing him a good day at school.

Just then, when he shoved his phone back into his pocket, Rick looked up to see Daryl coming out of the barn, effortlessly carrying a pack of hay over his right shoulder with Glenn struggling with his own pack just behind him.

Maybe he’d hired the right guy for the job.

 

*******

 

As soon as Daryl stepped into the stable he could feel how the horses started to go crazy, breathing heavily through their noses and neighing loudly. When the kid— _Glenn_ , finally reached the stable and stood beside Daryl, he tried to catch his breath and dropped the pile of hay on the floor like a dead body and noticed the way the horses became aggravated.

 

“That’s weird, they never do that,” Glenn noticed as he scratched the top of his head.

“Guess they don’t like me.”

“Don’t worry,” Glenn assured him, walking towards one of the stalls where a brown horse was pacing nervously. “Maybe it’s because they’re not used to strangers, but they’ll get used to you.”

They spent the rest of the morning cleaning the stables and feeding the horses. Glenn couldn’t hold back the chuckles that escaped from his lips when Daryl tried to approach one of the horses with a handful of hay, but failed miserably when the horse started to pace nervously in his stall again.

Once they stepped out of the stable, drops of sweat rolled down Daryl’s back, and above them, the sun shone brightly on one of the clearest blue skies he’d seen in the last months.

Without sharing a word, the two headed to the large barn, his boots lifting dust from the ground as he walked towards it. Once inside, he immediately looked at the animals in the stalls.

“This place is too damn big fo’ just a bunch of sheep,” Daryl commented as they walked further into the vast place.

“There used to be more,” Glenn said, walking beside him with both hands inside his front pockets, looking around at the empty corrals as he explained. “Rick had been selling them, and those are the last of them.”

Daryl glared at the sheep from a distance. He was supposed to be hunting Joe’s ass, not taking care of damn sheep. Then Merle’s words echoed in his mind, reminding him that, _if they were going to spend a few weeks there then they were going to need money_. “’kay, let’s go”

At least the kid was right and the process of taking the small herd of sheep out to the field was pretty quick. Daryl chuckled internally when he found himself walking among them, clapping and whistling just like Glenn had instructed him.

“See?” Glenn said, with a smile as they stepped out of the big stable, watching the sheep run into the vivid green field.

Once the sheep were out on the field, Glenn pointed to the fence that divided the yard from the rest of the property and the house. It was almost noon and the sun was still shining bright as they both walked to the fence. Glenn sat on the wooden fence as he watched the sheep. Daryl leaned his back against it, pulling out his last, crooked cigarette from his back pocket, lighting it and taking a long drag out.

“So, what brought you to Blackwood?” Glenn asked.

_Not much, me and my brother are huntin’ a fuckin’ traitor’s ass._

“Nothin’ really, just wanted to see this place, I guess,” Daryl simply lied, taking another drag, consuming the cigarette to its half, not caring much if the kid trusted him or not.

“There’s not much here to see,” Glenn commented vaguely.

“That’s why yer leavin’?” Daryl found himself asking, holding the cigarette between his lips, the white smoke coming out of his mouth as he spoke.

“Not exactly,” Glenn replied, looking at the ground then back to the sheep, like he was trying to answer Daryl’s question with more than just words. “My grandma is sick and my sisters need me back in Michigan.”

“Sorry ta hear,” he said, staring at the vast field before them.

Glenn nodded as he kept his eyes set on the small herd of sheep. The peaceful silence was interrupted by the growl of Rick’s truck, approaching from the dusty path that lead from the entrance to the house. Daryl took one last drag out of his cigarette before throwing it on the grass, stepping on it with the heel of his boot. From the corner of his eye he was able to see Rick park the truck in front of the house and climb out of it a minute later. He walked towards the fence where the sheep were grazing.

“Hey,” Rick greeted them, leaning with both hands on the wooden fence by Glenn and Daryl. “Thought you were going to wait for me to take ‘em out,” he said, eyes narrowing due to the bright afternoon sun.

“We handled them pretty well,” Glenn said, looking at Rick with a small smile then at Daryl. “Right?”

Daryl’s eyes shot at Glenn for a second and then back to the vet. Rick leaned forward, holding onto the fence, waiting for Daryl’s words with eyes full of expectation.

“It was easier than I thought,” Daryl confessed, as he shrugged.

“So, you like the job so far?” Rick asked, staring at the small herd of sheep.

From where they stood, the animals looked like balls of cotton placed in the bright green field. Daryl was still looking at the man, and for a moment he was tempted to drop his gaze back to the ground or look anywhere else. Yet, when Rick’s eyes met his again, Daryl held his gaze a little longer.

“I can adapt pretty well,” were his only words.

Rick nodded once, smiling shortly, but friendly at him. “Good, then.”

Daryl couldn’t keep staring into Rick’s eyes then, so he just mirrored Glenn and looked at the sheep while the slightly cold wind blew, shaking the naked trees around the farm. It was strangely peaceful.

 _This job isn’t that bad after all_ , he thought.

 

*******

The dead leaves on the forest ground creaked under his boots as he walked through the skeletal threes beaten by autumn. He cursed internally and wished that he could feel them break weakly under his paws.

Joe spat bitterly as he kept venturing into the darkness of the woods. The cold wind blew again, causing the tops of the naked trees to creak and shift above him.

His first thought was to hide in the mountains. He would find a cave, or maybe an old, abandoned cabin, but that would be too obvious and those damn brothers would find him before sunrise. That wasn’t going to work.

_No._

He needed to hide somewhere else, at least, for a couple of days while he figured out how the hell he was going to pull his ass out of the mess he created. Yet, deep down he didn’t regret what he’d done.

He didn’t regret any of the blood he’d spilled. He didn’t regret almost killing the entire pack and if he had to do it all over again, he would in a heartbeat. He’d make sure to kill those damn Dixon.

But he’d acted impulsively, following his instincts and didn’t have enough time to plan it all out. Now, he found himself running through the woods in his human form in an attempt to hide his smell a bit more and gain some time while he found a hole to hide in, just like a rabbit. He felt pathetic.

He stopped and glanced up at the wide starry sky, dark as the forest itself, with the exception of the bright moon shining almost proud above him, reminding him how insignificant he was in his human form.

The cold wind blew again, slipping through the woods like an ancient ghost. That’s when the smell hit him.

Immediately, he looked at his surroundings, but he couldn’t find anyone there. He walked towards it, letting the wind guide him until the forest was reaching its end and a wooden fence appeared.

A white house stood in the dark night on the other side of the fence. It was the backyard to a house, and beyond it there was a vast field, followed by a green barn and two stables.

He couldn’t help the wide smile from spreading on his lips as the smell of the young Dixon hit his senses again.

One of the windows on the main floor of the house gave him a perfect view. A man talking on the phone could be seen from there, smiling, distracted and ignorant of what was hidden in the forest of his backyard.

Joe looked at the house one more time before heading back into the forest, the moon shining over his gray hair as he disappeared into the night again.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slow chapter, i know but next ch. will have more Rick/Daryl interaction, i promise! <3


	6. Searching

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the lovely comments and thanks to the amazing [Hustler](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hustler/pseuds/Hustler) for the help! <33

The son of a bitch was out there. He could smell him in the air, on the forest ground, the trees and the leaves with different shades of red. Daryl knew that Merle could smell him too, but the trail wasn’t strong enough and soon they found themselves running in circles, more than likely chasing an old track. Merle sniffed the tree bark for a second time before they headed back to where their clothes were.

“The bastard’s been hidin’ pretty damn well.” Merle said when the transformation was over and he was standing on two legs again.

“Yeah,” Daryl zipped his pants up and grabbed his worn out green shirt lying on the ground. “We’ve been chasin’ his ol’ ass fo’ almost two weeks and found nothin’.”

“Don’ worry, baby brother,” Merle said, tying laces of his left boot. “We gon’ find ‘im and beat the shit out of him.”

Daryl snorted “Yeah? Heard ya say the same shit two weeks ago.”

“Well, fuck you and do it yerself.”

Daryl looked up at the sky through the naked branches of the trees, the night had started to fade into the soft colors of dawn. “Gotta go back.”

This time it was Merle who snorted loudly as a mocking smile spread on his face. “Ya go, farm dog. I’ll stay ‘round ‘ere fo’ a while.”

Daryl finished putting on his boots and stood up, shaking off small sticks and dead leaves stuck on his vest. “At least I found a job.”

Merle shrugged nonchalantly and chuckled, leaning his back against a tree and looking around the forest. “Whatever.”

 

 

*******

 

“She’s going to be fine?”

Rick stood up with a sigh; petting the mare’s head and smiling affectionately at Maggie, who was standing beside the animal, holding her hat with both hands, concern in her vivid green eyes and soft features.

“Yeah, she just got a bruise,” Rick said, ducking again beside the mare, slightly lifting its front left leg to show Maggie what he was talking about. “Do you have any idea how she got it?”

Maggie pursed her lips and stared at Rick for a few seconds before dropping her gaze to the hat she was holding. “Two days ago I went for a ride near the mountains. Maybe we stepped on some rocks there..” And for a second Rick thought that she was about to add something else, but she opted to stay quiet in the end.

“A bruise alone is nothing to worry too much about, especially when you know what caused it.” Rick assured her, standing up again. Maggie smiled, letting the concern vanish a little from her face. “She’ll be just fine in a week.”

Maggie let out a sigh filled with pure relief, “That’s some good news, huh?” She petted the mare on the back affectionately making its flesh shudder.

“I’ll write down the treatment for you.” Rick said, as they walked to the door of the stable.

Rick looked around while Maggie was closing the stable door. The Greene farm was one of the most prosperous and oldest in Blackwood. It was quite possibly as old as the town itself. It had a vast green fields and an extensive variety of animals.

“Hey, Rick,” Maggie said, suddenly she beside him as they headed toward his truck.

“Yeah?.”

“Promise you won’t tell my dad I went to the mountains?” She asked, green eyes filled with worry. “He always says it’s dangerous but I went there anyways, and it was stupid, but promise you won’t tell ‘im.”

Rick sighed and looked down at his feet as he kept walking, “I won’t if you listen to your dad better next time.” In that moment he felt like he was talking to Carl instead of Maggie and he realized how much he missed his son.

“Oh believe me, won’t do that again,” She assured him, raising both hands in front of her. “The forest back there is just creepy.”

Rick chuckled and shook his head, finally reaching his old Chevy and pulling the driver’s door open, taking a pen and an old note pad placed on the dashboard.

“This anti-inflammatory will work just fine,” he said, writing down on the yellowish paper of his notepad.

“Thanks for coming here today, didn’t want to bother ya on a Saturday since it’s supposed to be your day off.”

Rick ripped off the page of the notepad and handed it to Maggie. “Don’t mention it,” he replied, throwing the notepad inside the truck, landing on the passenger’s seat. “Have you talked to Glenn yet?”

“Not since he left yesterday,” Maggie sighed loudly, almost dramatically, and pouted. “ I miss him so much already, two months sounds like a whole year to me.”

“You’ll live,” Rick said in a playful tone.

Maggie smiled and nodded slowly, placing her hat back on her head. “How’s the new guy doing?”

“Glenn trained him well,” Rick said, climbing into the driver seat, keeping the door of the truck open.

“Well, if you need more help I can try and talk to Jimmy, ” Maggie narrowed her eyes as the wind blew. “It's the least I can do for you, after all.”

Rick gave her a sincere smile and nodded once, “I’ll let you know.”

Mornings like these were his favorites. Rick loved his Monday to Friday job at the clinic, but he appreciated the slowness of early Saturday mornings when he could simply enjoy the colors of the morning coming through his window, filling every corner of his bedroom. He’d stay in bed lazily without the need to start his day in a hurry.

To his surprise, Daryl was already there when Rick pulled up his truck in front of the house, sitting on the last porch step and a half a cigarette on his lips.

“Hey,” Rick greeted him as he walked towards where Daryl was sitting. “How long have you been here?”

“‘bout 30 minutes.” Daryl said looking up at Rick, long locks of dark hair shielding his eyes from the morning sun.

“Sorry, I was at a friend’s farm not far from here, didn’t think it would take that much.”

“’S okay, I’ve been late all these days,” Daryl shrugged and finished the rest of his cigarette with just a drag. When he threw the rest of it on the ground, Rick noticed at least four more cigarette butts laying on the dirt. Too many for just 30 minutes, he thought.

“So what’s the plan fo’ today?” he said as he stood up from the porch step, and Rick couldn’t help but notice some leaves almost hidden in Daryl’s hair.

“You got something...” Rick pointed at the left side of Daryl’s head.

Daryl narrowed his eyes again in confusion.“What…” he lifted his fingers to the long locks that were almost touching his shoulder.

Rick looked at him with curiosity, almost waiting for an explanation that he was sure Daryl wouldn’t give because it wasn’t his damn business. Daryl shook the leaves off his hair like it was nothing and looked back at Rick.

“We’re cleaning the barn today.”

The wooden doors of the barn creaked when Rick pulled them open; the smell of dirt, dust and hay mixed with the humidity of the rain from the previous days welcomed them as they stepped in. Bales of hay were piled at the bottom of the place, rusted parts of an old tractor he’d sold in the summer were placed carelessly on the left side not too far from the door.

“We’re gonna pile up those bales over there,” Rick instructed, pointing to the right corner at the bottom of the barn. “Then we’re gonna take these parts outside.”

“A’right.” Daryl nodded.

Rick walked to the piled bales of hay as Daryl picked one up and placed it on his right shoulder, just like Rick had seen him do a week ago. Rick stood there like he was made of stone, watching as Daryl put the bale just where he‘d told him. Daryl wiped his hands over his cargo pants and walked back to where the rest of the hay was and picked up a second bale and carried it over his shoulder like it was nothing.

“You gotta to teach me how to do that without hurting my back.” Rick said, picking his first bale of the day as he tried not to embarrass himself in front of Daryl.

Daryl chuckled, placing the bale on the floor. “Ya ain’t that old.”

“Yeah but I’m getting there.”

“Aren’t we all?” He said with an almost playful tone and it was the first time Rick had seen the man so relaxed around him.

“But you’re taking it better than me.” Rick dared to say, dropping the bale on the floor next to the others and looked at Daryl.

Daryl chuckled again and Rick couldn’t believe he’d laughed twice that morning.

The rest of the day went as quickly as it started and Rick couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed working at the farm that much. He found himself talking about random stuff with Daryl, just like he used to do with Glenn, and he was surprised when he saw a small smirk on Daryl’s thin lips as he talked.

Rick came out of the house with two bottles of water in each hand, walking to the spot on the fence Daryl was leaning against on his elbows. The afternoon sun was almost hidden behind the heavy clouds that had begun to form, promising a rainy night.

"Thanks.” He said when Rick handed him the plastic bottle.

Daryl took a long chug of his water and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, looking back at the small group of sheep they’d taken out of the stable minutes ago grazing on the field.

“You got a good piece o’ land ‘ere.” he commented after a moment taking a second sip of his water.

Rick nodded slowly to his words. “It used to be my father’s.”

Daryl looked back at him, that time with curiosity filling his intense eyes, but Rick was sure he wouldn’t ask him about it.

“He died a year after my son was born, lung cancer.”

“Sorry.”

Rick nodded, looking at the ground then back to the field, it had been a while since the last time he’d talked about his father.

“After that, my family and I moved here to take care of this place with the little experience I had, my wife-” Rick smiled and shook his head. “Ex-wife, she helped me and everything was good for ten years.”

He couldn’t believe he was spilling his life story to Daryl, a man that had been a complete stranger only a week ago and he still was.

“I’ve been thinking about selling this place,” He confessed, dropping his gaze to the still unopened bottle of water on his hands. “But I grew up here, my son spent part of his childhood here. There’re too many memories in this place.”

When he looked up again, Daryl was staring at him with an intensity that reminded him of that night back in his kitchen when he pulled out a bullet out of his leg, but this time there was a softness behind it. His eyes were the same color as the sea before the storm.

“Then don’t do it,” He said, staring at Rick right in the eye before tearing his gaze back to the field. “Like I said, ya got a good piece of land. Surround by nature and far from the pollution and all that big city bullshit.”

He never expected for Daryl’s words to comfort him the way they did, but Rick felt like he’d dropped a heavy weight off his back. The vet nodded to himself and looked at Daryl for a whole minute.

“Yeah.” He said, feeling the strange but needed relief in his body.

The soft breeze shook the top of the trees around the farm and Daryl's hair as he leaned back with his elbows on the fence, sipping on his water. He stared at the small herd of sheep just like a predator watching its prey from a safe distance. This time, thin golden straws were stuck in his dark hair instead of dead red leaves.

_Yes, days like these were his favorites._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soundtrack; http://8tracks.com/take_a_bow06/das-tier-in-mir-soundtrack


	7. Touch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, first of all: I'M SO SORRY!!! this story is taking forever! *writer's block ain't helping* but i'm working on it! thank y'all for the amazing comments and the kudos c,: <333 also, thanks to my amazing beta [Hustler](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Hustler/pseuds/Hustler), you're too awesome for this world <3
> 
> Next chapters will be more exciting, WE'RE GETTING THERE OMG, FINALLY.

“Hello?”

“Um….Sorry, did I wake you up?” Lori’s voice was soft and careful on the other line.

Rick rubbed his eyes with the back of his right hand as he sat on the couch, trying to focus his blurry vision on the bright TV screen in front of him. He’d fallen asleep watching a special of horror movies again.

“No, I was just... resting a little bit”

Lori sighed “I tried to called you early, but you didn’t pick up.” 

“Sorry, it was a busy day here,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose “Everything’s ok?”

“Yeah, it's just that Carl has been wanting to see you these few weeks,” Lori said with a warm tone and Rick could almost picture her smiling “We were going to visit my parents this weekend, but Carl changed the plan, so if you’re not b--”

“Of course,” Rick interrupted her. “I’ve been dying to see him, too”

“You sure you’re not busy?”

“No, don’t worry, I can handle it.” He assured her, smiling tiredly as he put the movie on mute.

“Ok, then we’ll be there tomorrow afternoon”

“Take care on the road.”

“Will do.”

When the call was over he placed the phone back on the coffee table, and looked back at the TV screen. The main actor was now on his hands and knees as his body shook and shifted into a werewolf. The cheap make-up and the poor special effects were hard to hide when the actor stood up to howl at the blue moon after transforming.

Rick sighed and stood up from the couch, turning the TV off.

 

 

***

 

It was past noon and they were taking out the small group of sheep out to the field when they noticed that a part of the wooden fence bordering the property was broken.

“How long have you been a smoker?” Rick asked him thirty minutes after they started to work on the fence, eyes narrowed due the sun shining above them, and a soft and barely visible but curious smile on his lips.

Daryl took a long drag of his cigarette as he contemplated the small chaos of wood and tools lying on the ground, trying not to remember the first time Merle gave him a pack of Marlboro when he turned 15. _“You’ll thank me when ya older, baby brother”_ he’d said. Then when  Daryl turned 16 and _suffered_ the first transformation, his senses were sharp as a knife, overwhelming him. He then learned that smoking help him to deaden them.

“I’m too ol’ to remember that.” Daryl said, holding the cigarette between his lips and letting the smoke out of his mouth as he bent to pick up a  new piece of wood.

Rick chuckled and Daryl couldn’t help but notice how happy the man looked that day, smiling and talking about everything and anything. Why was he so happy? Had something good happened to him lately? Daryl snorted internally and shook his head.

Why did it even matter to him?.

“I was thirteen when my friend Shane stole a pack of cigarettes from his dad,” Rick’s voice pulled him out of his thoughts.

“Really?” Daryl asked, feeling a bit strange about how sincere his curiosity was.

“Yeah,” Rick said, both hands on his hips and a wide smile on his lips, causing small wrinkles to appear on the corner of his eyes. “We spent that afternoon smoking in the barn until my dad found out, then Shane’s dad came over. Three days later when I saw him he had a busted lip and a black eye.”

Daryl chuckled bitterly, “That’s what happens when ya mess with yer dad’s stuff.” He bit his tongue as soon as the words left his lips. He didn’t need Rick to know about his damn childhood and his damn, dead father. He noticed the way Rick shifted his weight uncomfortably.

“And what did yer dad tell ya’?” Daryl found himself asking just to distract Rick.

And it worked, because Rick smiled shortly before picking up the hammer from the ground. “He said that that thing could kill me if I made it a habit. Curious thing coming from someone who died of lung cancer.”

“Guess he didn’t want that fo’ his son.” He murmured as he grabbed a handful of nails from the plastic bag placed next to the pile of new wood.

Daryl wasn’t even surprised when he looked up and found Rick smiling warmly at him, “Those were his exact words,” Rick said.

An hour had passed when a 2009 blue Mazda drove onto Rick’s property, pulling up in front of the house.

“I’ll be right back” Rick said, dropping the hammer on the ground, rubbing his hands on his jeans as he headed to the house.

A woman with long brown hair and slim body climbed out of the car, followed by a kid and Daryl could sense Rick on the kid’s smell from where he was standing. He couldn’t see Rick’s face from there, but it was pretty obvious that the man was smiling widely by the way he hurried to cross the field and finally hugged the pale kid waiting for him with evident enthusiasm.

“I’ll be picking him up on Sunday. I’ll probably  be here in the afternoon...” Daryl could hear the woman say as he turned around to mind his own business.

Thirty minutes later, Daryl walked toward the stable, opting to stay at the door when he noticed the way the horses started to freak out by his presence. Rick and the kid were feeding one of the horses when they noticed him.

“The fence is repaired.” Daryl informed him, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“I thought it’d take more time, I was about to go and help ya,” Rick said, cleaning his hands on his jeans. The kid standing next to him looked at Daryl with curious eyes. “Carl, he’s Daryl, he’s helping me with the farm now.”

The kid, Carl, smiled and walked towards Daryl and proceeded to extend his small and pale hand. Such a mature gesture for a kid, Daryl thought, taking Carl’s hand and giving him a small shake and a quick smile.

“Hey, Dad,” Carl said then, walking to one of the stalls where a white and brown horse was eating. “Can we go for a ride today?”

Rick was scratching the head of the dark brown male in the last stall of the barn “Well, I think we don’t have much to do today.” He said, looking at Daryl for confirmation, Daryl nodded slowly and leaned on the doorframe of the barn.

“Really?” Carl smiled wider that time, his childish excitement clear on his face.

“Yeah, let’s take ‘em out.”

Daryl had limited his interaction with the horses since he’d started working there. Somehow the horses were a bit sensitive to his presence, or his true nature, as if they could see the beast inside him, hidden behind his eyes.

And now he’d have to deal with them first-hand.

A calm ride with the horses through the woods seemed like a good way to spend the afternoon, but not for Daryl. He could feel the tense body of the horse under him, breathing heavily as soon as he sat on it.

They made it to the woods in no time, riding with a slow pace through the naked, skeletal trees. But there was something in the air that he couldn’t identify, something that made the hair of his arms stand up and his sense sharp as a knife.

“You good back there?” Rick asked with a smile, looking at Daryl over his shoulder.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Daryl said, at least the horse seemed to be cooperating with him.

“Hey, Dad, let’s go to the creek,” Carl said.

Just when Rick and his son rode ahead of him Daryl could hear something, making him pull the reins to stop the slow pace of the horse, changing the direction suddenly to the left. He tried to smell the air, tried to identify it, but failed miserably. He rode until he reached a ridge, and that’s when everything went to shit.

The horse neighed loudly, standing abruptly on its back feet and throwing Daryl off of it violently, sending him down to the tree-covered ridge. When his body finally hit the bottom of the ridge, Daryl could smell his own blood, but he sat up quickly as the other familiar smell hit him in the face.

He could smell Joe’s scent nearby.

He tried to find the smell like his life depended on it, looking at every direction like a madman until he found a crushed and wet cigarette butt buried under a light pile of dead leaves near his right foot. Daryl took it carefully, holding it between his thumb and index finger to examine it closely. Soon the smell of dirt, rain, Red Marlboro and Joe’s saliva hit his senses.

_Got ya’._

“Daryl!”

Rick’s voice resonated from the top of the ridge, pulling him out of the predatory state he was in almost violently. His wounded left hand was clenched tightly, causing the blood to seep through his fingers, his right hand still holding the only trace of Joe he’d had since they’d started hunting the man. His eyes returned to Rick, who was now climbing off of the horse, signaling his son to “stay there” as he started to descend carefully, holding to every tree on his way down to the bottom of the ridge.

The dead leaves covering the forest ground creaked under his weight as he stood up, shoving the cigarette butt in one of his pockets.

“You ok?” Rick asked when he was finally standing in front of Daryl, his eyebrows furrowed with concern.

“Yeah, was nothing,” He shrugged, trying to avoid Rick’s blue eyes. “That damn horse knows how to run.” He gestured with his other hand the direction the horse took.

A soft, warm, but firm grip on his left wrist took him by surprise and Daryl’s first instinct was to step back but Rick’s eyes were fixed on his wounded hand.

“How did it happen?” Rick looked closely at the wound and then back to Daryl.

Daryl was trying to find the right words to answer Rick’s simple question, but there was too much noise inside his head and he found it hard to concentrate with Rick’s hands holding his.

“Not sure, maybe I landed on a rock or I hit it with a tree during the fall.”

Rick nodded slowly, eyebrows still furrowed as he let Daryl’s wrist go, “Better find the horse and head back home, gotta clean that wound.”

“Ain’t nothing,” Daryl said. “It’ll heal pretty quick.” Literally, he thought.

“Yeah, but we don’t want it to get infected.” Rick look over his shoulder back to Daryl.

They climbed back to the top of the ridge were Carl was waiting for them. Rick offered his hand to help him a few times, but Daryl refused with a simple shake of his head. The sun had started to set on the horizon when they made it to the top, the blood on his hand was sticky and Daryl could feel how the skin around the wound had started to close around it. Clutching his hand into a fist, he prevented the wound from healing so fast. It would be too suspicious to reach Rick’s house with a completely healed hand.

Luckily, the damn horse was near and they could head back to the farm before the day reached its end. Rick led Daryl to the porch after taking the horses back to their stalls. Daryl sat on one of the chairs that were beside the door, wounded hand still clenched tight.

“Carl, go and grab the first aid kit,” Rick commanded, sitting beside Daryl on the wooden chairs.

The kid looked at his dad a bit confused, “But where is--”

“Bathroom.”

Carl nodded and ran quickly into the house.

“Seriously, ain’t nothing.” Daryl insisted, but Rick was a persistent son of a bitch.

“C’mon, let me see,” the vet insisted.

Rick’s fingers felt like pure electricity on his skin and Daryl hated the strange feeling pulling from his guts and making every muscle in his body tense. Rick leaned forward, looking closely at the wound on his palm. Carl stepped onto the porch soon, holding the first aid kit with both hands.

“Thanks,” Rick said, smiling at his son as he took the metallic box. “Now go and check the sheep. I’ll be there in a second.”

Carl nodded and headed back to the field.

“He’s not a big fan of blood.” Rick then commented, opening the kit and grabbing a pair of sterile gloves.

Daryl just nodded, hand stretched in front of Rick as the man started to take care of his wound, and it felt like damn dejá vú.

“Thought it would be a deeper wound,” Rick commented when he finished cleaning the dirt and dried blood from the wound.

“Told ya’,” Daryl sighed.

That time Rick looked at him with a small smile on his lips. “Yeah, but it could still get infected,” he said.

Daryl shrugged and Rick chuckled, shaking his head slowly as he kept tending to his hand and somehow, Daryl found himself smiling back at the man.

 

*******

 

“So how did you meet him?”

Rick turned off the faucet and leaned forward, staring at his backyard through the window one more time, but the white fence bordering his property, the darkness of the forest and the clear night sky was the only thing he could see. He shook his head slowly as he dropped his gaze  back to the sink, he’d been feeling paranoid all these days over nothing.

“Who?” Rick turned around to face his son, Carl was still struggling to finish the rest of his lasagna, his interest was somewhere else.

“Daryl,” Carl said, moving a small piece of his food with his fork. “How did you meet him?”

Well, he never expected his son to ask that, but Rick often forgot how Carl’s keenes was beyond his years sometimes. Rick looked at his son for a few seconds, trying to find the right words to answer his ten year old son without the words “ _naked_ ” and “ _wounded_ ”.

Rick sighed and leaned his back against the counter, crossing both arms over his chest “Well, he was new in town and was looking for a job.”

Carl nodded and looked back to his food “He seems like a nice guy,” he commented suddenly.

“ _Nice_ ” wouldn’t have exactly been the word Rick would have used to define Daryl three weeks ago, but the man with hostile blue eyes was barely a memory now compared to the man he’d gotten to know all those few weeks working with him. The man with strangely comfortable words and short smiles.

“Yeah, I think he’s a good man.”

“But I think he’s afraid of horses,” Carl then said, a smile tugging at his thin lips as he looked at his dad.

Rick couldn’t help but smile too, “Yeah.”

 

*******

 

Everything around him looked different that day, but his attention was somewhere else.

Daryl snorted bitterly, shaking his head to himself. He should have noticed, should have felt it.

_Eight days._

Eight fucking days ‘til the next full moon and he’d lost track of it. His damned blood being the only reminder, waking up every cell and sense to the point he could smell and hear every living thing around him.

But he didn’t notice it ‘til that morning, when Rick had walked past him on his way to the barn and Daryl could hear his heart as clear as daylight, beating inside the man’s chest as he lead the way.

Later that morning when his veins were pulsing frantically and his hands had started to shake to the point he needed to shove them into the pockets of his pants to hide the tremors, Daryl used the poor excuse of “keeping an eye on the sheep”, while Rick and his son took care of the horses.

When Daryl finally reached the fence across the field where the sheep were grazing, he leaned on the fence and let out a shaky breath, holding onto the wood until his knuckles went white and his  breathing normalized. The freeze felt colder on his exposed arms and every color and shape looked harder that day.

Rummaging through every pocket from his vest to his pants until he found a crooked cigarette, Daryl sat on the fence and lit the cigarette quickly, taking a long drag and letting the nicotine soothe his body.

“You’ll thank me when yer older,  baby brother” Merle had said then, and Daryl just hated that his asshole brother was right after all.

Eight days until full moon and Joe was still alive and kicking, three weeks and he found himself suddenly trapped in this routine called Rick Grimes. Daryl took a second drag, closing his eyes unwittingly and letting the heavy smoke out of his nostrils.

But the small moment of peace didn’t last long and his eyes snapped open when he could feel someone approaching. Rick’s kid was walking towards him with determination, sitting beside Daryl when he reached the fence, watching every move he made with curious bright eyes.

“Yer dad would prob’ly fire me if he sees me smokin’ ‘round ya” His voice had sounded rougher than he wanted to.

“No, he wouldn’t do that,” The kid assured him, staring at the cloudy sky “My dad thinks you’re a good man”

Daryl stopped his movements, holding the cigarette just a few centimeters away from his lips, he was expecting the kid to leave him alone, not to say that.

_A good man? So that was what Rick thought of him?_

And just as if Daryl had said the man’s name out loud, Rick came out of the barn, closing the old wooden doors with one hand as he held his phone with the other and started to walk towards them.

Daryl took one last drag of his cigarette before extinguishing it on the fence, turning his face to the opposite side where Carl was, to let out the smoke. Apparently Rick didn’t notice, because he didn’t say anything when he stood beside him and leaned on the fence.

“A good friend of mine called and he’s interested in the sheep,” he gestured to the small group of white-cotton sheep grazing peacefully in front of them. “He’ll probably be here on Monday.” Rick said, looking back at Daryl "Can I count on you for that?”

“‘Course, man” Daryl replied in the most natural way, just to stop in his tracks when he realized it.

But to Daryl’s surprise, Rick didn’t take it bad; instead, he did something Daryl wasn’t expecting at all. He placed his right hand on Daryl’s left shoulder and gave him a small and friendly squeeze.

“Thanks,” he said, a smile on his lips and wrinkles at the corner of his bright blue eyes. “Now let’s get those horses saddled.”

Carl yelled in celebration and jumped off the fence and walked beside his father towards the stable as Daryl just stared at them, his hands holding onto the fence until his knuckles went numb and his heart racing inside his chest like a caged animal, still feeling Rick’s warm hand on his skin.

That night, Daryl found himself running through the woods with the moonlight on his back, letting his paws and instincts lead his way, not realizing where he was heading until a white wooden fence appeared on his horizon. He stopped almost immediately, feeling the wet and cold ground under his bare paws before his animal instinct betrayed him and made him walk straight to the fence.

  
There was just a single light coming from the house beyond the fence, and a familiar shadow behind one of the windows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SOUNDTRACK *updated*: http://8tracks.com/take_a_bow06/das-tier-in-mir-soundtrack


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